The Sun in the Palm of His Hand
by Starling-chan
Summary: Love is not as great as the stories make it out to be, but maybe it's not all that bad.


Note/disclaimer: The title is stolen from the song "Bermondsey Street". I own nothing.

1.  
He gets up in the morning half an hour early, boiling water for a cup of tea as he gets ready to face the day. He takes a little more time today making sure he doesn't look as tired as he feels – the last thing he needs is Tsuzuki fussing over him and trying to stuff desserts down his throat.

Ten minutes later than he'd like he's standing outside Tsuzuki's door, eyeing the peeling paint critically as he always does. For some reason, Tsuzuki never bothers keeping his house in as good a condition as his garden.

Ringing the doorbell doesn't work (the bell broke almost a decade ago, Watari once told him) so he knocks on the door until he hears a loud crash from inside, then waits impatiently for Tsuzuki to open the door. The tea in his mug has grown cold.

It's too much trouble trying to make sure Tsuzuki gets to work on time. He's not sure why he does it.

2.  
The case is a simple retrieval, an old man who didn't realize that he doesn't belong in the living world any more. He thanks them after they explain ("You had a heart attack a week ago." His funeral was yesterday) and heads for the afterlife without a fuss.

Tsuzuki is quiet when they get get to the office to start the paperwork for the assignment. He gets no more work done than usual, but his distraction is quiet. He watches the trees outside, playing with his pen idly like he's forgotten that there's something he's supposed to be doing. Normally, Hisoka would yell at him to get him to focus. But he's distracted, too, mind drifting stubbornly no matter how often he tries to force it back.

Tanaka-san had been almost eager to move on. They don't come across too many people like that. In a way, it throws Hisoka off balance more than any of the fights they've gotten into with souls too desperate to stay.

Tsuzuki suggests eating dinner together in the Italian place that opened a week ago. Hisoka doesn't offer ahead of time, but he sets down enough money to cover for both of their meals. "You're broke already, anyway, aren't you?" he says before Tsuzuki can ask.

3.  
Tsuzuki greets him with a small bouquet in his hands. "My garden is getting a bit crowded. Do you still have the vase from before?"

It's on the same shelf it's been on since Tsuzuki gave it to him a couple of months ago. The flowers died within several days, but an empty vase is depressing in the same way his otherwise plain house is, so he's never bothered moving it.

Tsuzuki likes feeding his fish. Hisoka watches him talk to them like they can understand him.

4.  
"We can put your books here," Tsuzuki suggests. "I don't need a lot of these things. I've been meaning to clean out this place, anyway."

Tsuzuki is the sentimental type. The odd trinkets that cover the shelf attest to this, all of them useless and most of them broken. Rather than throw them out, he'll probably put them in the basement. It's already a cluttered mess that puts the rest of the house to shame; what's one more bookshelf worth of stuff?

"Sure," Hisoka agrees. This shelf is smaller than his, but there's no room anywhere else. He'll give the extra books to the library.

One of the odd things about the mess Tsuzuki calls home is that he never takes long to find anything. It might be on the kitchen counter, buried under candy wrappers and miscellaneous papers, but Tsuzuki grabs the pen from under the pile like that's the most logical place for it to be.

Tsuzuki is a terrible roommate. He knows this from experience, too many cases spent in tiny rundown hotel rooms. It's noon on Saturday, two hours after Tsuzuki first brought it up and Hisoka agreed, and already Hisoka wants to say that never mind, he'll take his stuff back and stick to his own house.

He bites his tongue and helps Tsuzuki arrange the former guest room to his liking.

5.  
The movie ends, the last of the credits fading from the screen. Hisoka turns the TV off before the DVD can return to the menu and blast loud music through the house. He should get up and go to bed (and get Tsuzuki into his own bed, since half-dead couches aren't exactly ideal sleeping places) but Tsuzuki is fast asleep, cutting off blood circulation through both of Hisoka's legs. He's going to regret this in the morning, but right now Hisoka is too tired to care. He yawns and shifts to get a little more comfortable, draping the blanket over the two of them as well as he can.

Alarm clocks aren't as useful when they're two rooms away, he discovers the next morning. They're both late that day, and can offer no real excuse. Tsuzuki tries with, "But it's not my fault Hisoka makes such a nice pillow!" but Hisoka kicks him and forces down a blush, and ignores him for two hours afterwards.

6.  
Tsuzuki places the box down on the centre of the table with a grin. "You should like this one, Hisoka. It's lemon."

It's been years since Hisoka accepted that arguing with Tsuzuki about sweets is destined to end in failure. He gets out two plates, forks, and a knife instead.

The kitchen smells slightly of smoke, though they've been airing it out for a couple of hours already. The dull light hanging from the ceiling isn't anywhere close to candlelight, and they're probably going to have to replace the light bulb soon. The music playing from the stereo is some pop song from the fifties.

"Happy tenth anniversary," Tsuzuki says, handing him the plate with the smaller slice, beaming brighter than Suzaku's flames.

Hisoka takes the plate in exchange for a kiss.

The cake is better than expected. He still gives Tsuzuki half of his slice.


End file.
